


Bring It

by Yikes (CoralFlower)



Series: soonhoon? [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Begging, Biting, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Protective Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Protective Xu Ming Hao | The8, Rain Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, Top Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 07:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13829385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoralFlower/pseuds/Yikes
Summary: “I’m not gonna sit here with my dick out while you go get me a band-aid, Jihoon."“Pull your pants up,” he retorts. “And seriously, I don’t think a band-aid is gonna do it. The stylists are gonna wanna strangle me, fuck.”“Is it really that bad?”“You look like I tried to murder you with a slab of concrete, Hosh. Like. I have no idea how they’re gonna cover that up.”“Well. Just shoot me before you go, then."-SoonHoon do it in the rain and Minghao is a good friend. Inaccurate account of what inspired the song Bring It.





	Bring It

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my first svt fic!! im super excited. you should look up the lyrics for bring it or youll be mildly confused. 
> 
> theres some mentioned mingyu/minghao but you can interpret that as a joke too, im not rly sure which it is myself

Jihoon’s pretty chill, until he’s not. Like, right now, he’s grinning at you _in the rain_ , trying to lure you out from under the awning. And yeah, it’s chilly out, but that’s not the same thing as chill. 

He’s sort of the opposite of chill right now, standing there in the rain with his hair soaked and his clothes rapidly getting there. And it’s sort of your fault, since you shoved him a little too hard and he ended up falling into a puddle, but to be fair, you were distracted and he walks way too quietly for your tastes. He startled you, is all. 

He’s laughing at you, grinning, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“C’mon, when was the last time we actually got wet in the rain? This is kind of great, actually, better than you’d expect-- I’m actually feeling an overwhelming urge to give you a hug right now.”

You try to take a step back and hit the wall, and his grin turns predatory. Fuck. He can smell fear.

Half a moment later, barely enough time to blink, and your arms are full of him, wet and laughing and somehow still so warm. He drags you away from the wall-- you always forget how strong he is-- and honestly, the rain isn’t so bad when you have Jihoon plastered up against your side, giggling madly in triumph. 

“Yah, you really are some sort of disciple of chaos, aren’t you.”

That just makes him laugh harder, and he’s having so much fun you don’t even complain when he switches to hugging your back to get as much of you wet as he can. 

But suddenly something shifts, and oh, that’s his breath on the back of your neck, his hand clasping around your wrist, and--

“Did you just _bite_ me?”

“Maybe,” he says, and then you’re being manoeuvred back under the awning and pressed up against the wall, and it’s so far off how he usually acts that you can’t even react for a moment. By the time you regain your bearings, he’s got his chin resting on your right shoulder from behind, which he’s not tall enough to do without standing on his tiptoes. And he’s still giggling a bit, and you sort of like how it makes his weight shift against you. 

“What,” you say, not pushing him away. 

He doesn’t say anything, and it’s just the sound of the rain and his breath for a long moment. You sigh, and relax into the wall. Your hips move back enough to bump into his, and Jihoon-- Jihoon doesn’t move away. 

He lets go of your wrist to put a hand on your hip instead. 

“Oh,” you say, and you still don’t push him away.

“Is it getting weird?” he asks, fingers twitching on your hip, and you shrug. “Would you mind if it did?”

You swallow, and lick your lips. And then again, shrug, slowly. 

“We should stop,” you say.

But you don’t push him away. 

He pulls back on his own, and you shiver as the chill air hits you again.

“Okay,” he says, sounding like there’s something caught in his throat, and you can tell if you let this go he’ll obsess over it for months hyperanalysing his mistakes, and then write a song about it, and you’ll have to watch him sing it live, and he might even give you lines in it. “We’ll stop.”

You grab his wrist, not turning to face him, and take a shaky breath, shutting your eyes and trying to gather the courage to say what you need to. Because no matter how sure you are that you’re safe with him, and despite the fact that he practically just jumped you in the rain, it’s still really fucking scary to admit any of this out loud.

“Wait,” you say. “I mean. We do a lot of things we shouldn’t do.”

There’s a silence that probably feels longer than it really is, and you’re about to take it back when you hear him cuss under his breath, tone slightly shocked;

“Shit.”

“It’s-- we should stop but we don’t have to,” you say, stumbling over the words like he stumbled when you shoved him into that puddle. “We do lots of things we shouldn’t.”

“I feel like this is a little bit different, though,” he says, voice soft and shaky. 

“Maybe it is,” you say. “Maybe it’s-- maybe it’s good. Maybe it’d be, um--” you swallow, and decide to just say it, just get it over with. “I want to.”

“Oh,” Jihoon says. 

A silence longer than you can bear. 

“Please say something.”

He takes a shaky breath. 

“Um. I want to. I want to, kind of a lot. Um-- here.”

He puts his hand back on your hip and pulls your ass towards him. Your forearm scrapes on the bricks some as you slip down a bit, but more importantly, you’re pretty sure that’s his dick, half hard against your ass. And you think that you really like being shoved around by him. 

Suddenly he’s gone again, and you realise you took a little too long to react. 

“Sorry,” he’s saying. “Sorry, that was--”

“Come back,” you say, breathless. “God, please, Jihoon.”

“Oh,” he sighs. “Mm, I really like that. Say it again.”

His voice dips low with the command, and heat surges through you, leaving you shivering without him against you.

“Please,” you say again. “Jihoonie, please, I need-- it’s cold.”

He groans as he presses you into the wall again, his chest warm against your back, and you make a noise that starts as a sigh but turns into a whimper. It seems like he likes it, since his hips twitch a little, so you do it again.

“Soonyoung, hyung--” the way he says your name is interesting, a pause before the honorific like he almost forgot it-- “I wanna hear you rap in the next album.”

“Heavy rain warning,” you say, and he gasps quietly at the pun. “Someone stop them.”

“I hope nobody does,” he whispers. “I doubt any of them could, if we wanted to keep going.”

“Oh,” you gasp, grinding your hips back against his, and revelling in it when you hear his breath hitch. “Hey. You should touch me.”

“Fuck yeah,” he says, and then pauses. 

“What?”

“I was wondering-- will-- I want to hear you beg again, say my name.”

“Roger that,” you sigh, shutting your eyes and leaning even more heavily on the wall. You’ll have imprints after this is over. “Please.”

There’s a pause, and then he asks,

“What, is that all?”

He puts his palm flat over your stomach and nips at your neck again, and your knees buckle for a moment. There’s a scrape on your cheek from the brick when you can put weight on your legs again.

“Please,” you whine, testing how well you can hold yourself up with just one arm on the wall and whimpering when you start to slip. “Please, Jihoon, touch me, god, your hands are so pretty, just-- I need you so bad.”

He inhales roughly, grip tightening on your hip until it’s almost painful, and then finally he’s undoing the button of your pants and sliding the zipper down. 

“Yes,” you gasp out, almost sobbing. “Don’t stop, _please_ \--”

“God,” he sighs. “Soonyoung, your _voice_. You’re killing me.”

“Just touch me,” you tell him, grinding back against him. He bites your shoulder this time, harder than before, and you yelp in surprise. You’re pretty sure that’s going to leave a mark. 

“Yah, be patient. I’m getting to it.”

You whimper his name, and turn your face to the side so you can lean on the wall without killing your nose, freeing up your arms. You swat his hand away and reach into your boxers, sighing in relief as you wrap your fingers around yourself.

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon says, voice low and raspy, a warning in his tone, and you actually freeze for a moment. 

“Fuck you,” you say, snapping out of it. “I asked nicely and everything, I said please, don’t be a dick.”

He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand behind your back, shoving your face harder into the rough brick, and you moan despite yourself. 

“Is this okay?” he whispers, lips brushing over your earlobe, and you shudder. 

“Yeah,” you tell him, words slurring together a little from how drunk you feel on all this. “‘S fuckin’ great. Shove me harder.”

“Beg for it,” he says, tugging your other arm behind your back as well when you absentmindedly start touching yourself again, and you whimper.

“I’ve begged enough, Woozi, c’mon--”

“I wanna hear you,” he interrupts, loosening his pronunciation enough that you can hear the accent under his words. “Show me how good you sound moaning my name, Soonyoung, show me how much you want it.”

His lips press against your neck after he speaks, like he wants to mark you up just as much as you want him to, and that’s kind of the limit to what you can handle as far as teasing goes.

“Fuckin’ hell, Jihoon, you’re a terror. Fuckin’, touch me, I need it, need your hands on my cock so bad, like, like, _fuck_. Please.”

You pause to see how he likes that, and he actually fucking chuckles. 

“Cute,” he murmurs. “Try again.”

Shit. 

“I swear you’re gonna end up fuckin’ killing me, Woozi, your fuckin’ voice and your hands and-- and everything. Please, please, I’ll make even better sounds if you’d just _fucking touch me_ \--”

“Try it without cussing this time.”

Something in your mind must give out when he says that. Because everything’s just sort of blank, suddenly, everything except for what’s here and now and present, like the scrape of the bricks against your cheek and the weight of his chest against your back, trapping your arms behind you. When you manage to speak again, your tone is softer, less confrontational. 

“Oh, please,” you say, voice raw, and you’re surprised by how wrecked you sound. You think Jihoon likes it, because he moans softly into your neck. “Anything, Jihoon, do anything you want, please.”

He makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat, and you swallow.

“Just, please, I need you. I need you real bad.”

“Good boy,” he murmurs, one hand slipping into your boxers to stroke you slowly, and you make a sound like you’ve been punched in the stomach.

“More,” you plead. “Go faster, please go faster--”

“What will you do if I say no?”

Your mind blanks out again.

“Die?” you try, shakily, and he chuckles. “Really, please, I need it, don’t laugh.”

“I bet I could tug you to your knees and shove your face into the ground and you’d still be begging for more, wouldn’t you.”

“Please,” you say, imagining it, imagining how easy he’d be able to bite you in more places like that. “Please, you can bite me if you want, just-- nh, go faster.”

“I think you just want me to bite you,” he says, and you don’t even try to deny it. He keeps up that steady, slow pace as he bites down on your neck in several places, and you make so much noise it’s kind of surprising nobody’s come out to investigate yet. 

“I like that,” you inform him, voice trembling almost as much as your knees are. “That thing where, where you get my skin between your teeth and wiggle your jaw back and forth, keep-- yeah, like that.”

Your breath is becoming more and more erratic with every bite, until you’re gasping for air every few seconds, hips bucking forwards into his hand.

“I’m really fuckin’ close,” you say, upon realising that, shit, you’re really fucking close. He hums against your neck and then bites you one last time as you spill into his hand. Your knees give out, and you slide down against the wall about half a foot before he can catch you. 

“Wow,” you murmur, resting your forehead against the wall and basking in the weakness of your legs, and how it means Jihoon has to hold you. “Are you-- do you want me to do anything for you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he says, planting a kiss on the side of your neck. “Maybe after we get inside.”

He helps you sit down, and you turn to smile brightly at him, heart skipping a beat in anticipation of the smile you’ll see on his face; you love his smile. But he’s looking at you with wide, anxious eyes, and your stomach twists uncomfortably with the worry that he’s regretting this. “Shit, Hosh, your face...”

“What about my face,” you ask, reaching up to feel. He grabs your wrist with the same hand that was in your pants, and then immediately lets go, flushing. 

“Uh-- you shouldn’t touch it, just-- lemme wipe my hand off real quick.”

“Tell me what’s up with my face,” you insist, holding your wrist in the stream of water from the gutter and letting it rinse your come off.

“You can’t feel it?”

“Feel what? Fuck, is it a bug? Is there--”

“No,” Jihoon says, laughing. “Fuck, this isn’t funny. Uh. You sort of have a huge scrape, like, all over. Like, scary levels of all-overness.”

You snort, and reach up to feel again, because you sort of don’t believe him. Wouldn’t you feel it?

“Stop!” he says, swatting your hand away. “Um, I’ll get something to clean it off with, just stay here--”

“I’m not gonna sit here with my dick out while you go get me a band-aid, Jihoon,” you say.

“Pull your pants up,” he retorts. “And seriously, I don’t think a band-aid is gonna do it. The stylists are gonna wanna strangle me, fuck.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“You look like I tried to murder you with a slab of concrete, Hosh. Like. I have no idea how they’re gonna cover that up.”

“Well. Just shoot me before you go, then. Guess I’ll die.”

He pauses.

“That’s a good title for a song,” he says pensively.

“What, Guess I’ll Die?”

“No, shoot me before you go.”

He’s starting to zone out, and normally you’d let him, because that’s how the best music gets made, but you’re starting to feel the sting, and it’s colder out here than you realised.

“I can sort of feel it now.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Um, yeah. I’ll-- band-aids.”

He disappears around the corner, and despite the sting on your face and forearms, not to mention everywhere he bit you, you can’t help smiling.

He comes back with the first aid kit and Minghao, who looks confused about why he’s even here. And then he sees you.

“Woah,” he says, stopping in his tracks as Jihoon kneels beside you and opens the first aid kit. “What’d you do that warranted several bricks to the face?”

“It was an accident,” Jihoon hisses, and you smirk at him.

“Seemed pretty intentional to me,” you say, and he flushes bright red.

Minghao looks between the two of you with a look of dawning horror on his face, and Jihoon hurries to explain,

“He shoved me into a puddle and I wanted to get him back, but I shoved him too hard and his face hit the wall.”

Minghao frowns, stepping closer to study your face, and you feel a sudden, overwhelming urge to hide.

“It doesn’t look like there’s a bruise forming. It actually seems more like you gently rested your face against the wall and this guy grabbed you by the hair and dragged you along it. Like. If you fell into the wall there’d already be a visible bruise. And aren’t you supposed to get ice, if...”

He trails off, noticing how Jihoon’s glaring at him, and says,

“Not that I’m saying you’re lying! Just that you’re incompetent in first aid!”

You blink. Minghao puts his head in his hands.

“I should quit while I’m ahead.”

Barely a moment later, he snatches a sterile cloth out of Jihoon’s hand and says,

“You’re doing that wrong.”

Jihoon’s glare deepens as Minghao takes his place kneeling beside you, and he snaps,

“Weren’t you going to quit while you were ahead?”

Minghao shrugs, touch gentle as he disinfects the scrape, and you maybe let your guard down a little too much, because--

“Wait, what’s--”

He tilts your head back with a hand on your chin, and you let out a mortified squeak.

“Oh my god,” Minghao mutters, looking between Jihoon and your neck like he can’t quite make the connection between what he’s seeing and the conclusion he’s trying to draw.

“Minghao,” Jihoon says, a warning in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” Minghao says. “But... _you_ did this?”

“So what,” Jihoon says, blushing all the way from his ears to his collarbones.

“Need me a freak like that,” Minghao mutters. “You know the stylists are going to murder you, right?”

“Minghao,” you say, tactfully. “I know that cracking jokes is how you cope with this sort of thing, but if you don’t quit...”

“I’m going to castrate you myself,” Jihoon finishes.

“Spicy,” Minghao says. And then, “Sorry, sorry, I’m stopping.”

He leans in closer, ostensibly to keep cleaning off the scrape, but he whispers, too quiet for Jihoon to hear,

“Are you okay? You wanted this?”

You nod, and murmur,

“I wouldn’t do it again here, but I don’t mind that it happened.”

“What?” Jihoon asks.

“Just discussing the merits of making a move on Mingyu here,” Minghao says, straightening up. “Okay, it’s as clean as I can get it.”

“You and _Mingyu_?” Jihoon sputters.

“Hopefully someday,” Minghao says. Jihoon just stares. “What? You don’t know everything.”

“Yah,” Jihoon begins, but Minghao just grins brightly and promises to grab you a scarf for the hickeys before making a tactical retreat back inside. 

“Why was he here,” you ask Jihoon, putting your head in your hands.

“He caught me getting the first aid kit and wouldn’t stay behind once he used process of elimination, of all things, to figure out that you were the only one outside.”

Jihoon sounds mildly murderous.

“Hey,” you say, looking up and taking his hand, and he smiles down at you. “This was good. We should do it again sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’m glad.”

**Author's Note:**

> i love minghao in this... he's so concerned about hosh and im Soft... anyway please comment if you liked this!
> 
>  
> 
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